Pattie Louphelia Busby Green (1 of 4) Viola Muse Transcription Zariah Grant Encoding and edition Katherine Mezich

This document was produced as part of the Viola Muse Digital Edition (violamuse.unfdhi.org), based at the University of North Florida.

https://violamuse.unfdhi.org/items/show/63 USA Florida Jacksonville Jacksonville Historical Society Viola Muse Collection (1959-18) Folder 10, item 3 Discussion of poet and musician Pattie Louphelia Busby Green, with two of her poems

Handwritten, three pages, with damage to edges

Document transcribed and encoded following the criteria of the Viola Muse Digital Edition (violamuse.unfdhi.org), based at the University of North Florida.

Federal Writers Project

Viola B. Muse

Poetry

Byby Pattie Louphelia Busby Green.

John Henry Titus, writer of <choice><orig>'</orig><reg/></choice>The Face on<lb/> the Bar Room Floor<choice><orig>"</orig><reg/></choice><choice><orig/><reg>,</reg></choice>See The Face on the Bar Room Floor. accorded Pattie Louphelia Busby Green a high honor when he wrote the following words in one of his bookbooks of poems ^and presented it to her: — "Ever conserve the Spiritualspirtitual folklore in all your poems. They are triteSee trite. and correct". signedSigned, John Henry Titus."

Besides being a composer of poetry, Pattie Green, as she is known, is a musician, who interprets spirituals and classics alike. Has done much fraternal and church work and, at present, is in charge of the Florida Branch of ^The Sunday School Publishing Board, 421 Broad St.Street, Jax.Jacksonville, Fla.Florida.

Two of her poems follow.

The Beautiful Lake

Written on the train at Haines City, Fla.Florida

The chug, chug, of the power house, As the smoke rolled in curls to the west, The evening comes on as still as a mouse, While the birds all go to their nests.

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(over)

2

The shadows are falling on the beautiful lake, The trees seem to lay in the waves, That mule and wagon seem to stand on the lake, As he lazily switches his tail.

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The wind is blowing on the beautiful lake, The sun’s turning red in the west, All babies are going to bed to rest,. Who can tell what tomorrow will tell.?

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As the lake glistens like a great polished case, Whose secrets of death does it hold? And the majesty of it’sits beautiful face, Gazes mutely, calm, and cold.

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My Queen O!., God, my life, my very soul, Goes out in thanks to Thee, For the woman thouThou gavest to be my queen, The glory of my home. The air she breathes is my very breath, Her love lies in my heart., Her children are fair because of her love, That rules in my home of rest.

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